


The Young Woman

by WriterChick



Series: Quite Alive [2]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, POV First Person, Smitten, musings, pairs with the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterChick/pseuds/WriterChick
Summary: This is through Sigtryggr's eyes and can be read paired with episodes 9 & 10 of Season 4. A closer look at his scenes with Stiorra and his thoughts regarding her.
Relationships: Sigtryggr Ivarsson/Stiorra
Series: Quite Alive [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861171
Comments: 27
Kudos: 95





	The Young Woman

I never wanted children, or a wife. That is why I have always been stronger than my enemies. I keep my life free so nothing can be used to weaken me. It was losing my lands that drove me to Wealas in search of Brida--not love for my cousin. When she told me of his death, I was not moved by it, as others would be. Any eye for an eye only leaves both blinded. Instead, I thought of what was here and now, and what was right before me. 

A pregnant she-wolf.

Brida is consumed by rage, letting it blind her to everything but revenge. And why? Because she loved a man that fell under a blade of Cnut’s making. And why would my cunning cousin Cnut kill an ally? Because he loved a woman whose heart beat for another. Around and around it all goes, love and hate, life and death.

And what has it made of the famed fighter? She treated the welsh man as if he were her dog, while she herself played mine. I gave her enough slack in the lead at first so that she would feel free to make her choices. I find compliance comes easier when one believes it was their idea. I yawned and pretended contentment in Wealas, before letting her compel me to Winchester. Brida may be stupid with emotions, but she has more knowledge of the land than I do at present. Maps only offer so much insight. 

Other Danes would be more willing to join my men if they knew that I freed Cnut’s woman. I doubt they know that she ended his life, so her name is still of value for now. I promised her Uhtred because I saw no need in letting a Dane Slayer live and what did I care if she wanted to do the work? With her eyes seeing nothing but him, she is easy to control.

I wanted no part of such weakness for myself. Instead, I had risen above such feelings so that I may see more in life, and take what I want from it. I believed that was how a man made his reputation--by asking his head for direction, not his heart. 

This is not to say that I lived the life of a holy man, with my cock tucked away. I have known men who live in their lust, mounting every woman within ten leagues for little more than a smile or a full pair of tits. It takes more to provoke such a need in me--usually the heat of battle--and when it arose, I would find a woman to hump for the night, and leave by sunrise. I never learned their names or remembered their faces and was gone before they could claim my seed took root. 

So determined have I been, never to share my life with another, and instead spend it building a new world for my people. You can imagine my surprise when I was struck by the sight of a young woman amongst the hostages and I forgot to breathe. 

I have seen many pretty young girls in my life, but none so beautiful as this one. I should have looked away as I would on any other day. But for her, I could not. I pressed my lips together and listened closely for any scrap of information I could gain. Any woman with the ability to affect me so, surely had been sent by the gods.

Brida tested her norse knowledge, thinking to sniff out a Saxon with some lesser known goddess. It was fitting that Brida used one of Frigga’s handmaidens to test her, as I could feel the goddess’ power flowing around me, influencing me.

She spoke very little, but her voice was that of a songbird’s as she confirmed what I could already sense--that she was Dane. Brida was quick to recognize her as only half blooded, and I said that was enough, because for me it was. Frigga would not have put her in my path if she was more Saxon than Dane. 

I gave the order to have her separated from the others because I wished to be alone with her. People reveal so much more of themselves when there are no onlookers to judge. No one had the opportunity to question it--not that they would--because Eardwulf declared that she was the Dane Slayer’s daughter. 

Of course she was. Frigga would not have used a peasant to kindle the flames in my heart, for she knew it would surely take a great woman to make me change my ways. I did not know this Uhtred of Bebbanburg, but I knew she was his kin. It was in the way she went rigid, even her voice hardening to lie that she had never seen Eardwulf before.

I do not blame her for her dishonesty. It was the smartest move to make in such a situation, and it showed she had her wits about her. She was so much more appealing once I knew her brain worked. It is too bad Brida is not of a likemind. 

When she planned to send the Dane Slayer his daughter’s head, I knew then that I would have to betray her. This woman was a gift from the gods, and it was up to me whether or not I accepted her. Until I did, no one would threaten her safety. The moment Brida issued the order, I rose from my seat. I needed to be with her, even if it meant being her captor.

I ordered the old queen and the others back where they kept their dead king, and I ordered for her to come with me. It was the best way to hide my interest. I could not yet openly oppose Brida. Our men would not understand the reason behind our divide. 

I did not appreciate how they dragged her along by the throat, though I could tell just from the look of her, that she would not break under such a rough hand. So, I bit my tongue and kept walking, knowing we would be alone soon. I brought us to the old king’s special room because it was filled with paper and books and I wanted to see if she could make any use of them--how far her knowledge extended.

When we arrived, I sent her in first and stood back to address my men. Brida was far too bloodthirsty to be trusted alone with this woman. I did not say as much, however, only that I wanted  _ no one  _ to interrupt me while I questioned the hostage. 

I had only been outside the room for a moment, but that was long enough for her to consider the worst possibility and find a gruesome solution. I opened the door quietly, hoping to spy her for a moment unguarded. I did not expect to see her break a glass and hold it to her cheek, threatening to mar her beautiful face. She braced herself for the pain of such scarring and before she could apply any pressure, I spoke to stop her. 

Still, she held it there, contemplating whether or not to ruin her image. It was then that I realized she did not fear death but instead perhaps torture--a woman’s particular torture. I promised her that I would not harm her and asked again that she not slice into her flesh to avoid unwanted touch. Then I held my hands up as I rounded her, so that she might see that I was sincere as I told her that I only wished to speak to her.

It was unlikely that a man such as I would not want more from a woman he captured, so I understood her hesitation to believe me. She did not know of me enough to see I am unlike other men, and the way in which she stared me down as I approached, told me that she very much doubted it. 

She is wise for a woman as young as she, and her eyes looking back into mine said that I had barely even scratched the surface. With the glass shard still raised, she watched as I lowered myself before her. My new position was both to appear less intimidating, as well as to better admire her beauty from a closer position. 

I told her if she answered me truthfully, I would treat her kindly--making it sound as an ultimatum, but it was not. I would have treated her well regardless because I know better than to abuse a gift. She would have had no reason to believe in my kindness if I did not offer it on condition, so I insisted on her honesty. 

She mistook my meaning and offered me a small spit of fire in retaliation. It heated the blood in my veins and widened my smile. Even though this woman’s life was dependent upon my whim, she had the spirit to answer so, and it pleased me. Like me, she possessed the will to live on her own terms, or not at all. 

Easing her worry, I told her that I was the Dane who took Winchester and that if I wanted to hump a woman, I would not need to use force. Many would throw themselves at me, looking to pup with a man of my reputation. Though she did not try to use her sex to secure her freedom or to influence me, she decided my words were true, and slowly the glass lowered until she allowed me to take it from her. Selfishly, I let my fingers brush over hers as I did and felt the charge of her skin against mine. 

I made myself sit across the room to keep from touching her again. I would show her that I could control myself, that I am not a savage like our forebearers. I asked of her mother because I knew already that her father was infamous, and recognized our similar ancestors. Still reluctant to trust me, she quipped back that we were not so similar. Rather than feed into it, I asked after her home. The more I knew of her, the less of a hostage she looked, and more of a woman worthy of my attention.

I offered compliments and flashed her my grin, looking to win her favor. She kept herself turned away from me, evading my efforts, glancing back only occasionally so that I might take stock of such fair features. When she told me that her father’s lands were stolen I saw the opportunity to see whether she embraced the Dane in her, or if she was of a Saxon mind, asking, “Are you one of us, or one of them?” 

I had wanted her to say that she was one of us and feel a closeness with her. Instead she said that she was both and before I could express my disappointment, she explained that to divide herself was foolish. I challenged her because I wanted to test the strength of her convictions and was rewarded for it when she showed me more fire.

She refused to pick a side and even went so far as to say that choosing was ‘a game for old men.’ I was struck deeply by those words because they reflect what is in my own heart. 

We are so much alike--her and I, even if she does not yet know it. We both look to see beyond the old ways, to nurture a new generation that does not succumb to anger and ambition alone.

When she mentioned honoring both of her parents I smiled that her love of honor made her a Dane. It was in part to tease her, because my woman must have a playful spirit, and in part because as much as I wanted to blend our people, I am of Dane and I want her to fit in my world with me. To show as much, I chastised Saxons for kneeling without care for honor, before one god. She met my energy with her own, telling me how little I knew of Saxons. 

Though she is slight in size, she is quite spirited and fearless in her speech. I kept challenging her, merely to listen to her come back at me with another quip, as she did not seem to run out of them. When she left me with nothing to say in return, I imagined how ruthlessly she might wield a sword if placed in her hands. 

I asked her if she thought there could be peace between Saxon and Dane because I genuinely want there to be and I need the person I share my life with to want that too. While she does not seem like a peaceful creature, that does not mean that she does not desire it. One could argue that I am not so peaceful as I try. She was guarded in her reply, which did little to convince me that she was of a different mind--only that she had realized just how much she had revealed in her frustrations. 

Her retreat was uncomfortable for me, so I moved to sit a little closer to her--though still far enough away as to act honorably. I knew now without question that honor meant something to her and that the best way to win her affection would be to act with it. Changing tactics, I asked after her father. It was smart to take the opportunity to learn of a potential opponent, and because she is such a passionate creature, I guessed that it might open her up to speak more freely again. 

I was right. She turned, letting me look upon her face as she told me of Uhtred and how he lived a divided life. One that she refused to. Charged by such talk of her loved one, she challenged me, telling me that I speak as though I have never killed. I assured her of my experience and my loyalty, letting her take many meanings from my words. Surely she would see that loyalty in one area, often also meant loyalty in others. 

I had left her alone for only a short while before I returned to find the arse-licker striking her. I then understood the fury of lovers. I felt as I do when I am in the middle of battle, rather than only the start of it. I clenched my fists and forced a smile to control myself as I asked him if this was how we played--striking those weaker than ourselves? I then struck him before he could respond, and took pleasure in seeing his pain. I looked back at her as I goaded him, showing her that she no longer had cause to fear. 

He was now mine to punish for harming her. 

She is strong, though her strength is not based in muscle and steel, but instead in her mind. In time, with training, she could be a formidable shield maiden. Until then, she can rely on me. I wanted to show her that though she was weaker than Eardwulf, he--and many men--are weaker than me. I can keep her safe. 

In retaliation for the abuse Eardwulf gave her, my little songbird sang of his treachery, how he murdered the man he swore allegiance to--giving him a dishonorable death. Though he tried to discredit her, I paid him no mind, for he lied worse than a child. Her words served to confirm my instincts about him and gave me hope that she might have begun to see me in a warmer light. 

She had a chance to expose the weasel back in the great hall when he first shared her familial ties, but she did not. Owing me nothing, she kept that information to herself. Only after I showed her that I could be gentle and listen, that I would protect her, did she decide to reveal his ways to me. I saved her more bruising and swelling, and she saved me from a knife in the back. 

When I removed him from her presence and had him executed, I told my men how we needed to be united, and thought of her smile. I spoke of our search for a homeland, of a new way of life, the entire time my mind wandering back to her words. Brida did not take well to my speech, how I spoke of our fallen brethren. Again, I was reminded of how little she would fit in this new way. Not my little songbird, however. She and I would create it together.

I dealt with the petulant king, forcing him to retreat. I continued to lead my men from behind the walls of Winchester, stepping away to visit her whenever able. I continued to point out everything that made her more Dane than Saxon, and embraced her heathen side because I believe not many had, and I want her to set me apart from others as I have her. 

I indulged her playfulness with games that I did not bother to keep score for because I was already winning with each smile she gave me. I liked it best, however, when she would read the Saxon book to me, because the sound of her voice is not something I could tire of. When Brida tried to take her--and I wanted to rip her throat out for it--I knew I would have to act if I meant to keep her.

So, I did what any man in my position would do--I negotiated. I kept myself calm as I dealt with Brida, and my wits sharp as I visited the other hostages and picked both boys to bargain with. The weak Saxon king could not handle this proposition, as I knew he could not. I meant to force his hand, and was surprised to find Uhtred himself. His daughter had told me a lot about him, how relentless he could be when fighting for the ones he loved, how he had the strength to make impossible decisions. He sounded like a man worthy of respect, and when I saw him at the gate, I knew I would get further talking to him than I would his spineless king. 

He did not ask after his daughter, so it was easy for me to speak to Haesten as if I wanted to tear him to pieces. It was only to get him inside. Brida tried to take him, but I stopped her, of course. I gave her his sword to shut her up, though I doubt that was enough. She is one that will always let anger and hatred rule her until it is her undoing. 

When at first I spoke to Uhtred, I spoke of his daughter--letting him know that I was aware of their relation. Only half of what I said was a taunt to better witness his devotion to her. The look he gave me as I promised that she had not been dishonored was one of murder. Fortunately for me, I have Frigga on my side, playing behind the scenes, toying with us all. 

I meant no disrespect, only to assure him. Whether he lives or dies, he will one day be my family. I would have him know that I treat his daughter well. It would not have done me well to fight with him if he thought otherwise.

Now I am to meet with the indecisive king and his warrior sister. Perhaps she will speak reason to him and agree to give in to my demands--especially once I add another condition to the bargain…

Stiorra. 

Stiorra, is her name. My songbird. My gift. My fate. 

It took many meetings for me to learn her name--and the information came from another, no less. I am not a man easily succumbed to pride, but I could not allow her to know that I was slowly losing my heart to someone who’s name I did not know, so I did not ask. She took for granted that I was already aware. 

I know now why Frigga put this young woman in my path. Her name means, ‘bright star.’ It is to the stars that we look to when deciding the path we travel. Many nights I spent on the ship, rocking over the waves and staring up at the night’s sky, asking for a new place to make home for my people. 

The gods heard me and decided to intervene by showing me a home in her. There is too much that proves this, to deny it. The way her beauty caught my eye when others could not, the music in her voice making me listen, the quick wit in her words sharpening my own logic. That Brida would use one of Frigga’s handmaidens to test her, and that she would be the one to name the traitor among us, takes away all doubt of who she is to me. 

For her to be called ‘Stiorra’ only shows the gods’ humor. 

I want her by my side, though I know how fickle the gods can be. They do not grant a man anything so easily. Stiorra must choose to be mine and share in my vision with me. To win her, I must be patient. 

I call her a ‘young woman’ to remind her and her people that she is grown. She is no longer a child, but a woman, and yet she is still young to know all of her desires. As a daughter of Uhtred, only now coming of age, I believe she has been sheltered in her life. She can not be ready to accept her fate so easily, so I will move slowly to show her what it could be like between us. I will prove to her that though she stirs a passion in me that I have never known before, I want more than what is between her legs.

Stiorra needs time. She may not yet see me as a woman sees a man, knowing me only as her captor. That is why I will ask the king and his sister for her. Uhtred answers to them--is loyal to them. He will do as they say. He will make a difficult decision because he knows how to. I have shown him that I will care for her, therefore I know he will relent and he will not deny them. 

I will take her to Eorforwic to give her the chance to know me--to choose me. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this fandom and looking to read more in this tag. If anyone wants to chat about this pair, please feel free to message me on tumblr @0writerchick0 
> 
> We can help each other cook up more ideas for fics! My next one shot will be them on the road traveling to Eorforwic.


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